Justin Trudeau is Canada's Prime Minister. Universally regarded as the most deliciously fuckable head of state worldwide, Justin has just separated from his spouse, Sophie-Grégoire, so treat yourself to a business class seat to Ottawa on VIA Rail, then text me for further instructions.
Justin is the son of Canada's most famous Prime Minister, Pierre Trudeau. Pierre was so popular, it inspired a wave of hysteria that was called "Trudeaumania". Pierre married Margaret Sinclair, a woman over thirty years younger than him, back in the 1970's, but she left him for the Rolling Stones and various other people at Studio 54. It is rumored that Justin is the love child of Margaret and the guy who sells hot dogs at ByWard Market.
Canada has no term limits, so Pierre was in office for 200 years, and Justin has just now started his 240th year in power. He retains his youthful appearance because of a pact with the Dark One that Chrystia Freeland will age on his behalf, before collapsing into a pile of dust after about a millennium.
Is that right? I dunno, is it? I dunno. It CAN'T be. Can it? I mean, IS IT? It certainly has felt like a long, long time.
Note to Justin: I'll be calling you about 3 AM. Please pick up the phone, baby.
